


The Fault is Not in Our Stars

by prettytothinkso (cobragirl516)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Bromance, Character Death, Fantasy, Fluff, Gen, Hate to Love, Hurt Harry, Hurt Liam, Hurt Louis, Hurt Niall, Hurt Zayn, It's hard to explain, M/M, OT5, OT5 Friendship, Prince Zayn, Reincarnation, Sad Zayn, Servant Liam, Zayn-centric, a tiny bit of everything, a tiny bit of larry, and ziall, but then Canon, zianourry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobragirl516/pseuds/prettytothinkso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hand landed roughly on his shoulder and Zayn whipped around to find the feather haired boy from the public bath. He had electric blue eyes, ones that were currently sparking with anger. </p><p>Annoyed, Zayn brushed the hand off. "May I help you?" He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the boy's obvious lack of clothes. He didn't seem too embarrassed by it though. </p><p>"Funny you should say that," the boy snarled and brushed the fringe out of his eyes. "Give me back my fucking clothes."<br/>---------------------------------------------------<br/>Or an AU where Zayn runs away with his servant, Liam, and both of them end up on the streets. They are taken in by Harry and Niall, much at the displeasure of Louis and soon find themselves in the middle of a tightly knit friendship, one so precious they know they can tackle any obstacle in their way. </p><p>Or you know, maybe not because it seems as though Death is obsessed with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit slow and revolves mainly around Zayn's back story...but the next chapters will have a lot of OT5 action!

"Highness, the Queen calls for you to join her at the dining room for breakfast," the servant bowed. 

He continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror, nodding slightly as confirmation. 

With another respective tilt of his head, the servant exited the room. 

Thick lashes curled as he blinked at himself, raven colored locks falling into his eyes. Zayn inhaled sharply, trying to ready himself so as to gain his mother's approval.  _Maybe today will be different,_ he whispers. 

* * *

 

"Mother," Zayn greeted smoothly as he slid into the chair across from her. 

The Queen looked up at him, her intense gaze chilling him. Her essence could be described in one word: white. She wore a pristine white dress outlining her curves before falling gracefully to her feet. She glowed with the authority and confidence that only came with being royalty. In that case, Zayn should give off the same aura. But, as he heard the servants whispering, he was rougher. His black hair and angry eyes nothing like the purity and silent authority of the Queen. 

They weren't like mother and son at all. 

The Queen placed her fork back down on the table, dainty fingers folding themselves together in front of her. She looked at Zayn, who struggled to hold her cold gaze. 

"I have some matters to attend to with the Council today. Please, content yourself with the professors and books at your disposal," she rose with a sweep of her arm. 

Zayn looked down at his plate and tried not to scream. "Yes Mother." 

* * *

Two hours later, he sat on the banister of the balcony, legs swinging and sun beating into him harshly. 

"Your Majesty," the same servant boy said softly. "Do be careful." 

Zayn smirked and leaned backwards further, relishing in the fear that rushed through him. 

Looking down, he could see the entire Kingdom of Nye below him. Young children whooped and giggled as they sprayed each other with water in the streets. Adults argued about politics under umbrella shielded cafes, their voices only adding to the joyful din of the Kingdom. 

Not that it mattered what the peasants thought, Zayn thought with a sneer. In the end, all power lay solely in the hand of the Queen. Traces of her power could be found throughout the kingdom, from the shimmering statue of her in the public square to the little girls placing plastic crowns on their heads and emulating her every word. 

 _The perfect queen,_ people whispered.  _Generous, beautiful and oh so pure._

Zayn's gaze hardened and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to scream out for the people to listen, and really  _see_ what kind of person the Queen was. 

"Happy birthday," a voice blurted behind him, drawing him back to reality. 

 _"What?"_ Zayn whipped around, throwing himself back on solid ground. 

The boy blinked his head and immediately lowered his head. "Happy birthday," he repeated, voice a bit shaky. 

A small spark ignited inside of him then, and he wanted so badly to keep it burning because it's been so long since anyone had that effect on him. But instead he was devoured by pure anger, rage at  _her_ for not realizing while this servant boy did. 

Inexplicably, he found himself in front of her room minutes later, chest heaving. The servant had not followed. 

Pushing the double wooden doors open, he was greeted with pure light. The walls were entirely glass, cold and hard and glaring as they reflected the sun's light back to him.  _So fucking pure,_ he growled. Just like the rest of the castle, it was glass and light and frankly, he was so sick of it. 

He scoured the room with his eyes, trying to find something out of place, a speck of dust, anything! But of course, there was only the light and her immaculate furniture placement and the same fucking silence he'd dealt with ever since his father died. 

Eyes burning, Zayn turned and made his way back to the doors before the tears started leaking out. But out of the corner of his eye, he caught a speck of color hidden beneath her pillows and his breath hitched. 

Running over, he shoved his hand under the cold fabric to withdraw a framed photograph. The tears ran now, hot and angry and scalding. It was a picture of his parents, before his mother's coronation. His mother smiled broadly, eyes bright and shining, completely devoid of the stiffness she had now. His father pressed his face against hers, warm brown eyes crinkling at the edges. Their hands met in a badly shaped heart and Zayn traced their faces, crying over the drastic change from current reality. 

Anger overtook him again and he shouted as he thrust the photograph onto the floor, glass shards flying. He  _hated_ her. 

The Queen, his fucking mother. She took that away from him. 

Sobbing uncontrollably now, Zayn curled up on the ground. He envisioned his fathers arms around him again, crooning with his deep voice as he said happy birthday. He imagined his father's warm eyes in this goddamn castle and he cried. 

Zayn flashed back to her eyes that morning and her smooth voice and how she drifted away in that white dress without any indication that she realized what day it was. He looked up to her glassed room, everything bitter and cold and he knew.

He couldn't stay here any longer. Not with this  _purity,_ her  _iced_ eyes, sharp glass shards piercing him whenever he thought about the father he would never get to see again. 

His body running on adrenaline alone, he threw open one of the grandiose windows and threw a foot out before he realized the person standing in the doorway. Despair overtook him as he saw the servant boy, his eyes wide in surprise. He would never leave. The entire country was full of the Queen's servants--

"Leave," the soft voice interrupted. 

Zayn gaped at the boy, who smiled slightly in response. "You never belonged here," his eyes crinkled at the edges and his face seemed to radiate the soft gentleness of a candle.

The eyes, Zayn realized with a start. The eyes were the same as his father's.

"Wait!" Zayn called out as the servant made to close the doors. 

The boy turned around, puzzled.

"What's your name?" Zayn asked.

There was a beat of silence. "Liam."

"Liam," Zayn repeated. He suddenly felt disappointed with himself for not learning the boy's name until now. "Liam, come with me."

The boy's eyes widened. "Y-Your Majesty, I serve the castle--"

"You serve me," Zayn said firmly. "And you don't belong here either." 

Liam furrowed his brows, obviously conflicted. Finally, he raised his head and looked straight at Zayn. "Yes." 

With a smile, Zayn threw himself out, falling and landing with a sharp pain shooting through his left leg. Hobbling, he got back up and found himself in the gardens at the back of the castle. Liam landed gracefully next to him.

"We can get into the woods from here and if we go around we would be able to get to the streets," Liam said.

Zayn blinked. "How did you know--"

Liam faltered. "Sorry! I just assumed--"

"It's alright," Zayn said. "You were right." 

 _She would still be able to find me,_  Zayn realized. His lips raised in a triumphant smile.  _But she wouldn't try._

He knew this with a profund certainty running through him. 

With that, the two of them made their way into the woods. 

* * *

It's been days and Zayn growled as he palmed his restless stomach. His princely robes were long since torn to shreds by the branches and twigs. Having being pampered all his life, he had no idea how to survive. Annoyance flared up at him as he glared another squirrel away. 

Meanwhile, Liam seemed happier than Zayn had ever seen him be at the castle. He tilted his head to listen to the birds' songs and though it took a few days, he finally stopped addressing Zayn as Majesty. 

He seemed free, Zayn realized. He couldn't help but smile at that. 

Over the span of a few days, Zayn learned more about Liam than he had in years. Liam was born into a poor family and became an orphan at thirteen. In the end, he ended up working for the castle and had been serving Zayn ever since. 

"I have a friend we can go to," Liam said one night. "He's very caring, he'll let us both in without a doubt." 

Zayn simply nodded, too desperate for shelter and food to care. 

Suddenly, a dull noise manifested. It was a soft chatter at first, rising in volume when Liam and Zayn rushed towards it. Zayn's blood pounded as he ran with full speed towards the signs of civilization, adrenaline coursing through him. Gasping, he pushed himself past a large smattering of trees and found himself at the edge of a bustling street.

He did it. He found his way out, he was now far away from that glass castle. 

Grinning broadly, Zayn spun around, unable to take in all the new sights: the merchants shouting out prices at their carts, the children having water fights, the bustling markets and shouts of pure joy. 

It was chaotic, beautiful, the complete opposite of Zayn's glass prison. 

He immediately sought out one of the carts that sold food, stomach rumbling as he practically drooled at the warm bread. Reaching out for one, his eyes widened as his hand was swatted away. 

"Pay first," the old man behind the counter grumbled, grubbing hand outstretched. 

Zayn's face fell. He whipped around, eyes searching for Liam.

"I'm sorry, Yo--Zayn," the boy said. "I don't have any money on me." 

Zayn's temper flared and he turned back around to the old man. "Do you know who I am--" he growled. 

"Stop," Liam shook his head softly and dragged Zayn into a back alley.

"It's just bread!" Zayn protested. 

"You left the castle," Liam said. "With that, you leave your title and your privileges. Right now, you are no different from everyone else on the street." 

Zayn stared for a moment, taken aback by Liam's sudden show of boldness. "Fine," he finally huffed. 

"I'm going to ask around since I don't quite remember his address," Liam said. "Wait here alright? This street can get crowded at this time and I don't want you--"

"Yes, I get it," Zayn snapped. He was hungry and tired and cranky as hell. Liam being a protective hen didn't help much. 

With a frown, Liam left, leaving Zayn alone in the alley. 

* * *

 

What is taking him so long? Zayn grumped as he leaned against the wall. It was then that he realized just how badly he smelled. He had never liked the pampering and grooming his mother instructed for him back at the castle but body odor was always something he held in high regard. 

A hum rose in the air suddenly and Zayn tried to trace the sound. Following the alley, he realized it led to a public bathtub. There was a feather haired boy singing, eyes closed as he leaned onto the edge of the pool. There were only a few other  people in it now and though Zayn knew just how dirty the water was, he was desperate. Zayn tossed his dirt matted clothes on the rack and let himself sink into the water. 

It rushed against his skin, washing away the layers of dirt that had gathered on his skin. By the time Zayn felt clean, his fingers were wrinkly and the pool was almost empty. 

He couldn't put those dirty robes back on, Zayn thought. Looking around, his gaze fell on a simple peasant outfit laying on the rack near him. 

They're just clothes, he thought to himself. Not worth much, I'm sure whoever it belongs to won't even notice. With that assurance, Zayn rose and quickly dressed, trying not to grimace at the coarse material. 

Looking around, he realized he didn't know how to get back to the alley where Liam told him to wait. He pushed his way through the people to an exit and found himself on a different street. 

Once again, he was taken aback by how disorganized everything was. The din around him rose, with shouts of prices between women and merchants, yelps of children. 

"Hey!" A voice shouted.

Zayn twirled around, too caught up in the sights to remember that he should be looking for Liam.

" _Hey_! You!" 

A hand landed roughly on his shoulder and Zayn whipped around to find the feather haired boy from the bath. He had electric blue eyes, ones that were currently sparking with anger. 

Annoyed, Zayn brushed the hand off. "May I help you?" He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the boy's obvious lack of clothes. He didn't seem too embarrassed by it though. 

"Funny you should say that," the boy snarled and brushed the fringe out of his eyes. "Give me back my fucking clothes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other boys will enter in the next chapter! How was it?? Comments and kudos always make my day :) 
> 
> -CC


	2. broken inside, with no place to go

_But I'm not like the rest of you, Zayn murmured, tangling his fingers together. I ended up on the streets by choice._

_His knuckles turned white._

* * *

 

Zayn strained his ears as he tried not to look over the wall at the two bickering boys.

"He's so cute though," Harry all but squealed, peeking his head out from behind the wall.

"I don't care!" Louis hissed. "That little fucker stole my clothes, do you know how many old ladies giggled at me before I snagged a towel?"

"He probably didn't have any of his own," Harry pointed out. "Just supports my argument--he needs affection and a home to warm him up."

"I'm telling you, he's an asshole--"

There was a thump and a squeak.

"Zayn! We've reached a decision!" Harry shouted.

Zayn blinked and tried to look like he wasn't eavesdropping, hazel eyes big and vulnerable.

Harry paused for a moment, immediately quieting down at the fragile human in front of him.

Kneeling down, Harry smiled softly. "How would you like to come live with us?"

Harry knew that Louis was right--he really didn't know much about Zayn. All he knew for certain was that the latter boy didn't have clothes of his own and that was an inference at best.

Maybe he just liked to steal clothes as a hobby.

Zayn pressed his fingernails into his arm, digging into the coarse material of the clothing roughly.

But Harry was always good at reading people and simply by looking into the big doe eyes blinking at him right now, he knew that this boy had been alone for a long time.

Harry shook Louis' enraged glare off and looked at Zayn expectantly.

"It's all up to you," Harry smiled.

Louis turned his rage on Zayn instead. "You mangled little shit, don't you dare--"

"I would love to," the soft voice rushed out. Zayn exhaled and smiled tentatively back at Harry. Maybe he genuinely didn't know where else he could go or maybe he just wanted to piss Louis off. Either way, his answer was the same.

"Yes," Zayn said a little louder. "Thank you."

Liam returned just in time to hear Louis' screech and was overjoyed, naturally, when he finally got to reunite with his long lost friend.

* * *

 

"I'm telling you, something bad happened," Louis grumbled.

"Zayn isn't like that!" Liam insisted, hoisting up the grocery bags he was carrying.

Harry smiled at his old friend. Ever since Liam had gone to work in the castle, they had lost touch. It was funny, how coincidental the world was at times. If he hadn't seen Louis screaming naked at Zayn that day, he wouldn't have pitied Zayn and wouldn't have then found Liam.

"He's right, calm down Louis," Harry jumbled as he searched for his keys.

"The food is probably gone, our sofa ransacked, oh dear me--"

He cut off when the smell of roast chicken hit them.

"Hello," a soft voice murmured. "I made dinner, you didn't have much..." Zayn stepped into the doorway, spatula in hand.

Niall leapt out from behind him and grinned broadly. "I love this guy! Harry, are we keeping him?"

And as Harry and Niall laughed and went to put away the groceries, Louis sulking behind, Liam caught Zayn's arm. 

"You know how to cook?" Liam inquired, voice curious. 

Zayn's lips lifted up slightly. "I used to sneak into the kitchen in the castle whenever you were busy." 

Liam laughed. "What would the Queen say if she heard--" He cut off abruptly, face paling.

"It's fine," Zayn waved him off with a dull voice. "Just don't bring her up again." 

"Are we ever?" Liam's voice was cautious.

Zayn's shoulders tensed visibly before relaxing. "Hopefully not," he whispered.

* * *

  
One of the best things about leaving the castle, Zayn decided, was getting to go on night walks.

The brisk night air slipped down his oversized T-shirt and he shivered. The chill was nice though, grounding him to the city streets in a way that he didn't think was possible.

Somewhere up above, an owl cooed and Zayn raised his head, bathing his face in the silver light.

"Zayn," a voice called softly.

He turned around silently, trying not to disturb the nighttime serenity.

"I know you love to go on these night walks and I'm sorry for disturbing you but I couldn't say it during the day and I just--" Liam stopped and inhaled sharply.

"Thank you," he said finally, the words rising in a wisp into the night sky. "For telling me to leave with you that day back at the castle. I...I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

Zayn shook his head. "You didn't belong there." You're so much happier here, he wanted to add.

Liam saw it though. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Are you glad you left?"

Zayn paused. Snapshots flashed through his mind, a jumble of lonely nights enclosed in glass and his mother's sharp eyes until they landed on his father's warm smile that he saw in the photograph.

"I don't know yet."

* * *

 

Louis didn't know how to feel about Zayn. He definitely disagreed when Harry insisted on taking him in (his house did NOT need a fifth slob) but Zayn turned out to be a bit different from the other lads. He was quiet and kept to  himself most of the time. There was an air of superiority though that Louis caught whenever he was around the other boy and it pissed him off. 

"What are you doing?" Louis drawled as he laid with legs outstretched on the couch.

"Cleaning," Zayn answered, voice monotone. While he had hit it off with the other lads well enough, Louis had never been anything but cold to him. Not wanting to get into another screaming match though, Zayn knew the best option was to engage with him as little as possible.

"Why?"

"Cause I live here."

"Right, I'll discuss rent with Harry tonight."

"Perfect, I can shave off my hair and sell that if you'd like," Zayn snapped. It was morning and hobbling along with a dusty wooden broom while Louis loungued on the sofa was grating on his nerves.

"Not sure if that would even cover the clothes that you stole from me, much less rent," Louis retorted without a beat.

"What, the tattered rags that people use to clean up after their dogs?"

Louis jerked upwards and growled. "Dont you fucking start."

"Who's the one moaning about his perpetual lack of money while EVERYONE ELSE is working?" Zayn couldn't stop. Something about Louis just set him off; he couldn't stand to see that smirk on his face.

"Let me remind you again, this is MY HOUSE," Louis was livid. "Fucking get out if you can't stand me and my poor peasant rags."

Zayn gripped the handle of the broom tightly. "You know I can't."

Something stirred inside of Louis. "And why the fuck not?"

Zayn stayed quiet, not shooting back a retort for once.

Louis smirked internally at Zayn's newly discovered weak spot. "Did mommy not buy you your diamond tiara? The servant not butter your bread?"

Zayn gaped. "How did you know--"

Louis reclined back on the sofa and rolled his eyes. "Oh please. The first day came here, Liam followed your every command. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he was your servant. You gotta be rich." 

"It's none of your business," Zayn's eyes flashed, taking on a dangerous tone.

Never one to admit cowardice, Louis stood up and stared him straight in the eyes.

"You're just a spoiled pretentious asshole who has no idea how the world works. A kiss-up to his parents, who probably dote on you all the time, just so you can cackle when you inherit their business or whatever."

"Stop," Zayn dug his nails into the inside of his palm. "It's none of your fucking business!"

"I'm not Harry," Louis said lowly. "I won't let you into my house because your eyes say you're a good person or whatever. Either explain, or get the fuck out."

Zayn's eyes widened, flashing with something Louis couldn't quite place. He stood there frozen for a moment, still clutching the broom.

Finally, he dropped the wooden handle roughly and threw the front door open, footsteps receding quickly.

Louis sighed and laid back down on the sofa. His mind flashed back to the day Zayn first came to their cottage. He had gazed at it in wonder, which really made no sense to Louis because it was just another fucking cottage, with the singles falling off and paint peeling. But it wasn't derogatory, Louis decided. It wasn't in a pretentious way. Then why was he so entranced then?

Louis' eyes flew open and his breath hitched. Just now...before he left, Zayn's eyes, it was--

Fear.

Louis told him to get the fuck out and Zayn was afraid.

Groaning, Louis covered his eyes with his hands and tried not to admit to himself that Harry was right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this chapter from Avril Lavigne's "Nobody's Home." 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! Comments and criticism is always appreciated.


	3. can't bring me down, my level's too high

The cold wind slammed into Zayn and he shivered immediately, wrapping his arms around his small frame. Fuck him, Zayn thought. He had no right to ask, he has no right to know. Trembling, Zayn raised his head to meet the shimmering street lights. There were still groups of people scattered about, their quiet chatter filling up the night.

In a way, Zayn was glad he was out here instead of inside with the other boys. This, this street, the peasants here, the shouts of the men of the market, this was the Kingdom of Nye. Not glass, not purity, not anything his mother had showed him. And that's when Zayn realized, he did know the answer to Liam's question that other night. It didn't matter what Louis said to him, or how much he hated him, being out here in the streets made Zayn much happier than he would have been in that glass castle.

A few hours passed and the air chilled even more, each breeze seeming like a curtain of ice passing through him. The few people that were out disappeared and Zayn found himself alone on the street. Sitting down on a forlorn park bench, he rubbed at his thighs, trying to regain feeling in them.

Faintly, he wondered if the other boys were looking for him. Liam definitely would be, he knew. But what was it out of? Genuine care or responsibility? Or was it lingering traces of their previous master and servant relationship? Harry. Harry would be worried. But after all, that was simply the person he was. He cared about everyone, tried to save everyone. That's how he ended up here in the first place.

He didn't know how Niall would react. Based on his happy go lucky personality, the blond lad would probably stay home, a tad bit concerned but not acting upon it. He wouldn't believe that anything bad would actually happen.

And Louis. Louis could go fuck himself, Zayn decided. Fuck him and his cottage and his housemates that were such nice people.

I don't need it, Zayn told himself. I don't need to be pitied, or saved or served. I don't.

During that mantra though, a soft hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped. Raising his head out of his arms, he expected to see Harry's concerned green eyes or Liam's ever gentle gaze.

Niall.

The blonde lad threw his legs over the bench and landed besides Zayn. "What're you doing out here so late?

Zayn blinked. This was not the reaction he was expecting. "I..just wanted to take a walk."

Niall nodded. "Yeah, you do that a lot. You missed dinner today though. It was great, Louis made this Parmesan chicken or whatever. But yeah, it was magnificent."

Zayn stayed quiet. The wind rustled the tree leaves above them, a soft windchime. The silence pounded into Zayn, making his fingers twitch slightly in anxiety but Niall seemed fine. He stared blankly ahead, limbs relaxed and splayed out over the park bench.

"Well then," Niall finally said. "Should we head back now? It's getting a bit cold."

Zayn bit his lip. "Can't."

"Can't what?"

"Go back."

Niall paused and seemed to mull it over in his head. "Alright," he said. "Here, follow me."

Getting up, Zayn felt the air blanket him again. Niall led him to a darkened field, the grass soft and whistling beneath their feet.

"Football!" Niall cheered, pulling a ball seemingly out of nowhere. "Do you know how to play?"

Zayn's eyes widened in surprise. "Um..Niall, it's so late--"

"That's why it's fun. It's all dark and pretty and then out of nowhere you get slammed in the head with a ball," he said. "It's perfect."

"You should head back, Niall--" Zayn cut off when the ball hit him straight in the chest and knocked all the air out of him. Drawing in a shaky breath, he looked up incredulously at the other boy.

"Told you," Niall shrugged. "The other lads always say I'm the fiercest in football."

"Really now," Zayn raised an eyebrow, his competitive side perking up in interest. "We'll just have to see then--" He squawked when the ball dug itself into his stomach this time. Enraged, Zayn ran around frantically for the ball, eyes glittering in determination.

"I can't see!" He protested as he fumbled along blindly in the grass. "This is unfair--" Ducking, he barely managed to avoid the ball heading for his head. "This is not how you play football!"

Niall laughed. "There are no rules when you play with the Nialler. Come on Zayn, retaliate!"

And retaliate he did. With a strong kick, he delivered the ball straight to Niall. The ball spun in the air before making hard contact with the boy's shoulder, making him set out a cry of pain.

"Retaliation!" Zayn cheered. "Now--OOF!"

They continued like that, the two boys falling and slipping in the damp grass, feet flailing for the ball. The wind cheered them on, occasionally accompanied by the content hoot of an owl. All under the glowing smile of the moon.

* * *

 

"That's it," Zayn said hoarsely, flopping down on the grass. "Done. I'm done."

"I would laugh at you, but my chest is on fire right now."

The two boys lay on the grass in silence, taking in the candescent light of the moon and the soft glimmering of the stars. Zayn's chest heaved as his body pressed against Niall's.

"You're sweaty," the blonde boy commented.

"You're bad at football," Zayn retorted with a small smile.

Niall caught it though, his own face widening into a grin. "We'll have to play another night."

The grass was irritating Zayn's skin now and his clothes were damp with moisture and sweat. "Niall.." his voice suddenly became unsteady, unsure. "Do we still have to go back?"

Niall blinked at him, electric blue eyes meeting soft brown ones. "Do you want to?" His voice was soft and Zayn was taken aback for a moment by the sudden change in tone.

He chewed on his lip as he tried to think of an answer. "I can see the stars from here," he said finally. It wasn't really an answer but Niall smiled.

"Then let's go," Niall said, waving him up.

"B-But Lou-Louis--" Zayn stammered. His nightmare was going back to the castle but he would find a different place to stay if he wasn't welcome in that cottage.

"Alright," Niall sighed and sat down again next to Zayn. "Here's the thing about Louis. He doesn't hate you."

"Right, and that's why he did everything he could to stop me and Liam from moving in," he mumbled.

"He doesn't hate you," Niall repeated. "He's scared."

Zayn's head flew up. "What?"

Niall tugged at his hair and winced. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you, but...a long time ago, Louis lived alone in that house. And then he met Harry."

"Louis asked Harry to move in?" Zayn raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound right. Or you know, maybe it was the truth because he didn't think anyone could ever dislike Harry.

"Erm, kind of. Harry used to be a thing with this other super rich dude. And then he was dumped. Quite literally, onto the street."

"He was abandoned," Zayn repeated.

"Louis found him there one day and with some stroke of sudden kindness, took Harry in."

"And they've been inseparable ever since?" Zayn guessed.

Niall nodded. "It became sort of Harry's house. You know, with his mother-hen personality. A few years later, me and Liam moved in and everything was fine for a while before we kind of ran short on money and--"

"Liam went to work as a servant," Zayn realized. He was careful to leave out the part about the castle, he wasn't ready to disclose that yet.

"For you," Niall confirmed. "He didn't tell us about it beforehand, just left a note one morning. Louis had a hissy fit."

"So he just hates all rich people."

"Can you blame him?" Niall said pointedly. "I wasn't there when he found Harry but I can't imagine how bad it must have been. Harry didn't talk at all for the first few months. He was broken."

"I'm sorry," Zayn said quietly.

"For what?" Niall exclaimed. "It's not your fault you're rich, I get that. I'm not Louis."

"I wasn't the most amiable person when I moved in," Zayn mumbled under his breath.

There was a beat of silence.

"I like you Zayn," Niall finally said, voice tender and quiet. "I was wary at first yeah, but then you came in and immediately took our chicken and made that great dinner--"

"--it wasn't that good," Zayn interrupted.

"And then tonight you keep looking at the sky and telling me how this is your first time seeing the stars," Niall continued. His blue eyes bore into Zayn. "I know you aren't just a pretentious asshole. Liam agrees, if he brought you to the cottage and Harry could probably tell from the minute he looked into your eyes."

Niall ran his finger down Zayn's arm. "And Louis will realize with time."

Zayn's mind spun, reeling around all the information he was just given.

"Now," Niall got up and extended a hand towards Zayn. "Now that the mushy comforting session is over, are you coming or what?"

Zayn looked at the palm stretched towards him and the lingering smell of their sweat on the field. He looked at his dirt stained clothes and matted hair.

Somewhere hidden in a tree, an owl clucked its tongue.

Zayn tangled his fingers into Niall's.

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY thanks for reading. Chapter title is from Happy by Pharrell--not that proud but whatever. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated--I squeal whenever I got one :P


	4. fucked around and got attached to you

"We're back!" Niall called as he slammed the door open.

Zayn scanned the cottage. The lights were all on but no one was in the room.

"Yo," a gruff voice said. Louis emerged, hair ruffled and shirt creased and stained. He took a quick glance at Niall and then went into the kitchen, avoiding Zayn altogether.

Zayn sighed: "Niall, I told you--"

A steaming plate was suddenly pressed into his hands, scalding to the touch.

Louis grunted and then retreated back into his room, where giggles immediately erupted.

"G'job mate," Liam's voice was faint through the walls but Zayn could hear it nonetheless.

Niall smirked at him and nodded at the plate. "Parmesan chicken."

Zayn dipped his face into the steam and smiled. "Shut up, Niall."

* * *

 

"Come on Zayn, let my ball be your foot," Niall cheered drunkenly as he tripped and fell onto the sofa. "I'll be balls, keep you from all the ladies..."  
  
Zayn rolled his eyes. "You're so damn drunk."  
  
Sighing, the boy moved towards the now unconscious lump on the sofa and hoisted him up by the arms. The house was silent by now, all the other boys having retreated into their bedrooms hours ago. With Niall muttering nonsense into his shoulder, they made their way to Niall's room.  
  
Zayn dumped Niall onto the sheets and rubbed at his shoulder in relief at the lack of weight.  
  
The blonde groaned and flailed a bit on the bed. "Zayn...." He whined.  
  
"What is it? Do you have to throw up because I would really like a warning--"  
  
"Stayyyyy," Niall pouted with his eyes still closed and held his arms out in an overly theatrical fashion.  
  
Zayn stood in the doorway for a moment, body twisted between the hall and Niall's limp form. Finally, he exhaled. "Good night, Niall."  
  
He was readying himself for more drunk protests when he heard the slight snores come out. The blonde was now on his side, hair laying over his eyes and chest rising slightly with each breath.  
  
Zayn smiled slightly before retreating and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.  
  
Once he was out in the hall, he caught slight whispers coming from one of the other bedroom. Louis'.  
  
He was barely aware of his instantaneous decision to make his way quietly to the sounds.  
  
The door was slightly ajar, leaving a crack of light streaming into the hall.  
  
"You don't have to keep doing that," a voice murmured. Harry's. The slow drawl made it obvious.  
  
"Don't know what you're talking about," the other voice grumbled in reply. Zayn could imagine the slight frown on Louis' face as he said that.  
  
Suddenly, silence took over. Zayn stood still behind the door for a few minutes before he finally dared to peek out into the room.  
  
Louis and Harry were cuddled up on the bed, arms entwined and bodies twisted together, a single unit bathed in the soft candescent glow of the lamp. They seemed to be doing nothing but breathing together, their chests rising slightly in perfect synchronization.  
  
Zayn felt a slight pang in his chest at the sight, though he brushed it away quickly. The silence seemed to blanket the duo comfortably, fitting itself into the isolated moment that they were caught in, for them to understand and them only. Zayn suddenly felt guilty for watching, for witnessing this moment that clearly didn't include him.  
  
"Thank you," Harry murmured quietly, forehead pressed into Louis' neck. "Thank you Lou."  
  
"No, stop," Louis rolled away from him. "It's too hot for this."  
  
Harry laughed softly, the sound barely a tinkle. "Don't act like you're all tough."  
  
"Not pretending," Louis retorted quickly. "Now sleep."  
  
"Louis..." Harry sing-songed. "You gave Zayn food."  
  
"You threatened to shave my head if I didn't."  
  
Harry clucked his tongue. "Semantics. Now quit glowering at him all the time, you're scaring him."  
  
"Good, I want him out."  
  
"Not when you gave him Parmesan chicken--"  
  
"Sleep, Harry."  
  
The light flickered off with a quiet click and Zayn found him standing alone in the hallway. What did that mean? Maybe Louis really didn't hate him as much as he thought.  
  
Zayn couldn't help but smile. Harry and Louis really were inseparable. Now that Niall told him the backstory of it all, he could see why they fit in so well.  
  
Harry was the mother hen, doting on everyone and making sure everyone's needs were taken care of before considering his own. Zayn knew that if he wasn't here, Harry would be the one walking out to find a passed out Niall and taking him back to his room.  
  
Maybe he'd even put a wet washcloth on his forehead. Zayn had heard that was good for drunks. Whoops.  
  
Louis was the one that kept Harry from completely overlooking himself. Where Harry cleaned up messes, Louis made more of them.  
  
But in a way, Zayn understood. Harry was abandoned when he was younger, left out on the street with the clear knowledge that there was no place for him. Louis gave him constant reminders that he was needed. With each mess Louis made, Harry fixed it and Liam smiled in gratitude and Niall kept all of them laughing. The four of them were well balanced, filling each other's flaws and insecurities with their own enthusiasm and laughter.  
  
The smile faded from Zayn's face as he headed back out to the living room, his chest sagging with a forlorn feeling of emptiness. Closing his eyes, Zayn slept.

* * *

 

"Alright Zayn," Harry said, voice way too cheery for the early morning. He plopped himself down between Louis and Liam. "You can't keep sleeping on the couch here. It's not right."

Zayn grunted as he sat up, trying to ignore the crick in his neck. "It really doesn't matter." Harry and Liam had both offered their rooms to him enthusiastically but he couldn't do that to them. Plus, Louis looked like he wanted to stab something repeatedly when Zayn seemed to be considering it.

"You're going to spend a day with each of us and then you can decide which one of us you want to live with," Harry chirped. "You'll follow us around, to work, to bed. It'll be a chance for you to determine whose living habits you despise least."  
  
"Erm, Harry," Zayn scratched his head sheepishly. "Are you sure? Because I really am fine sleeping on the couch, it's more comfortable than you think it is."  
  
"Zayn, you smell like carbohydrates," Liam commented.  
  
"What?"   
  
Liam reached around Zayn to withdraw a greasy plate of half eaten pasta from the depths of the couch.  
  
All of them stared at the plate, which was covered in a dried skin of oil and crusty cheese.  
  
"Niall fucking Horan," Louis seethed, turning on the blonde boy in fury.  
  
"I swear, it wasn't me," Niall stammered. "I don't even like pasta, I-I'm more a pizza kind of guy, what kind of person likes pasta--"  
  
A loud crash sounded from Niall's room.  
  
"Louis, don't you dare touch that!" The blonde shrieked and raced towards the sound.  
  
Harry looked at Zayn pointedly. "You're not sleeping on the couch."  
  
Zayn sighed.

* * *

 

"Louis, let _go_  of his hair," Liam groaned in exasperation as Niall cried out in surprise again. "I swear, you have the mentality of a two year old."  
  
Niall rubbed at his head in annoyance. His blonde hair had been tugged and twisted into small little braids, such that they were now sticking out from his head in various angles.  
  
"All you fuckers ruining my house," Louis grumbled under his breath.  
  
"I think Zayn likes to paint," Harry chirped up, bring all gazes to Zayn.  
  
He blinked. "I, erhm..."  
  
Louis glowered at him. "If I _ever_ come home to find my walls a neon fucking pink..."  
  
"He would never do that, Zayn likes green," Liam added helpfully.  
  
"I stopped a long time ago," Zayn said quickly before the blue eyed boy could yell again. His head kind of hurt.  
  
"Anyway," Harry brushed his curls out of his face. "Who do you want to shadow first?"  
  
Four faces looked at him expectedly, one of them being considerably murderous.  
  
Three choices left then.  
  
"Liam," Zayn breathed. He had lived with him the longest and knew that he was the easiest to get to know out of all of them. Or maybe it was just that Liam was semi normal.  
  
The boy beamed, his smile practically blinding as he stood up. "Up then," Liam said. "We're going to the Quarters."  
  
"You're an officer?" Zayn asked incredulously. Officers of the Kingdom of Nye were extremely respected. They patrolled the kingdom daily, stripping the streets of its thieves and child kidnappers. Not much more than that was needed; the Kingdom of Nye was known for being safe and untainted by crime.  
  
Louis scoffed. "I can't believe they just gave you your job back like that."  
  
"He was pretty good at it," Niall pointed out, cookie in his mouth. "Remember that time the lady came up to us to praise him for being a hero?"  
  
Harry made a face. "He saved a cat."  
  
"And fulfilled the dying wish of an old lady," Liam sighed. "Zayn, let's just go."  
  
He stood up the exact moment that Louis did, resulting in the scalding mug of coffee in Louis' hands to go crashing right down Zayn's shirt.  
  
He stared at Louis, expecting some sort of apology at least.  
  
Louis blinked slowly back at him, eyes big and innocent. "Good morning," he said finally, stomping back into the kitchen to replace his cup of coffee.  
  
This was going to be interesting.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "i hate you, i love you" 
> 
> Thanks for reading! if you have any feedback/anything you want to see/questions/just a hello leave a comment or kudos :)


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